


Bed Rest

by fourthage



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourthage/pseuds/fourthage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the future, the common cold can still make a person miserable.  Shepard is grumpy and Garrus sees that she follows the doctor's orders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bed Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fluff. I'm not even going to pretend otherwise. Original prompt here: http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/5736.html?thread=25150568#t25150568

Shepard pressed her aching head against the cool surface of her fish tank. She hated being sick. She hated how everything hurt and how disconnected she felt from her body. If it wasn't for the stack of unanswered messages in her inbox, she'd be curled up on her bed with the covers pulled over her head. The door to her cabin opened, but Shepard didn't bother to look over. The number of people who came up uninvited currently stood at one.

“You look like you spent last night trying to out-drink a krogan.” Three-fingered hands took her shoulders and turned her gently. She moaned softly as her head left the coolness of the glass and started throbbing again.

“I wish,” she managed. “At least then I would have had the fun of being drunk first.”

Garrus chuckled and started steering her towards the bed. She resisted.

“Can't yet. Work to do.”

“The crew knows you aren't feeling well. They'll survive one shift without you checking up on them.”

Shepard tried to swat his hands away, but that kind of sharp movement was a bit beyond her at the moment. “I should at least check my mail,” she said.

“You can do that from bed.” Garrus got her down the steps and pushed her, not ungently, to sit on top of the blankets. The bed felt better than it had any right to, and Shepard had to fight the urge not to collapse backwards. Garrus left her there and fiddled at her private comm station for a minute before returning with a datapad.

“I'm pretty sure you just broke about a dozen Alliance regs,” she told him, as he handed it to her. He just grinned, then knelt to start taking off her shoes. “I can do that.”

“I know. Read your messages, Shepard.”

She scrolled through them, marking the ones she needed to reply to immediately, as he divested her of her footwear. There were only two: one from Hackett and one from the asari councilor. Her replies were as short as she could make them without being rude or insubordinate. Garrus took the datapad away from her as soon as she was finished and then actually scooped her up and laid her down in the middle of the bed.

“I'm not an invalid,” she groused.

“You're also ignoring the doctor's orders.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her forehead and down her cheek. “Bed rest for the next cycle, no physical exertion.”

Shepard opened her mouth to argue again, but was interrupted by a full-body shiver, complete with teeth-clacking and everything.

“You're cold? You felt warmer than usual.” Garrus pressed his hand against her neck and then her collarbone. Shepard leaned into his touch, never more grateful that turians ran hot. He ran his other hand down her arm to her hand, and frowned. “Your hands are freezing. Is that normal?”

“It's not unusual.” Shepard shivered again.

Garrus hesitated for a moment. “Need some extra heat tonight?” he asked.

It was the sickness, Shepard told herself. She always got more emotional when she was under the weather. She would never get teary-eyed at a simple offer of comfort otherwise. Not wanting to embarrass herself, she wrapped her fingers around his and pulled instead of speaking.

A few minutes later, they were both under the covers, Shepard pressed as close as she could get to his body, soaking in his warmth. Normally, this would be the prelude to something a little more athletic, but she was just so tired. Garrus was trailing his fingers up and down her back, making soothing rumbling noises that did nothing to keep her on this side of consciousness. She hated surrendering to anything, but when he worked his fingers into her hair and started a gentle massage at the base of her skull, she let herself finally drift away.

When Shepard woke hours later, Garrus still had his arms around her. He had his eyes closed, but when she stirred, they shot open and gave her an assessing once-over.

“You stopped shivering a couple hours ago,” he told her. “Feel any better?”

“Head doesn't hurt as much. Throat feels like shit.” Shepard swallowed experimentally and winced. “I could do with a hot shower.” She sat up and promptly had to lean forward as a wave of dizziness crashed over her. She cursed in frustration and felt Garrus sit up behind her.

“Need some help?” He rested a hand against her back and she shuddered. Her skin felt extra-sensitive.

“No,” she said shortly. Another wave of dizziness hit. “Yes. Dammit.” Now that she was sitting up, she could feel that the ache in her bones was still there. “I really hate being sick.”

Garrus helped her out of bed and to the bathroom. The act of navigating the two steps up from the living area took an absurd amount of concentration, and Shepard was both grateful for Garrus's arm around her waist and annoyed that it was necessary. She didn't like having to let him undress her either. For sex was one thing, but now, when he did it because she couldn't balance well enough to do it herself, it just made her feel angry and helpless.

It must have shown on her face, because once she was naked, Garrus pulled her close in a way that had nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with lust, drawing her hips flush against his and holding her there with a searing grip. His clothes felt rough against her hypersensitive skin, and she wanted nothing more than to be well so she could tear them off and ride him until they were both sated. The hard plates of his mouth pressed briefly against her forehead, and then he stepped back and left her leaning against the bathroom sink to watch as he undressed himself.

“Hate this,” Shepard repeated, as he pulled her under the warm spray a few moments later.

“I know. You're a horrible patient.” Garrus wrapped his arms around her waist and let her lean back against him as the hot water worked its magic. She'd kill for a soaking tub, but this was as good as she'd get on a ship. Garrus let the water sleet over them both, waiting until her hair was soaked and his hide softened, until she was practically boneless, before asking, “You want to wash up?”

The very thought made her arms ache. “No,” Shepard said. “This feels good enough.” And it did. The steam soothed her throat and the heat of the water was doing wonders for the lingering aches. She let her head loll back against Garrus's shoulder, and after a few seconds, he dipped his head to nuzzle her exposed neck. That felt good too. She tilted her head to encourage him and covered his arms at her waist with her own.

He licked along the tendon of her neck, making her shiver for other reasons entirely, and breathed hot into her ear, “I'm pretty sure that counts as physical exertion.”

The rational part of her brain knew he was right. The rest of her was giving the finger to the notion that she couldn't power through this like she did everything else. She reached out and shut off the water. “Probably,” she said. “When have either of us been any good at following orders?”

He hesitated, then sighed, “Maybe later.”

“Maybe now.”

“You're sick.”

“I don't care.”

He glared at her then. “I don't know anyone else who would demand sex while they can't even stand and make it sound like a reasonable course of action.”

She had a pithy response to that, but her legs chose that moment to prove him right, and if he hadn't already been holding her, she would have dropped to the floor.

“I hate to say I told you so,” Garrus started.

“Just get me back to bed,” Shepard said hoarsely. The shower was only a temporary cure, and she already regretted shutting it off so soon. She rolled over as soon as Garrus got her back under the blankets. Knowing he had been right didn't make the rejection sting any less.

The gesture wasn't lost on him, and he paused before joining her on the bed. He put a hand along her side. “We need you well, Shepard.” His fingers tightened. “I need you well.”

Shepard rolled back over. “I know. I'm sorry. It's not your fault I can't be human when I'm sick.”

Garrus settled next to her and rearranged the blankets so the side opposite him was tucked in firmly under her. “Humans have the strangest idioms,” he said. His hand drifted over her stomach.

“That's not -” Shepard cut off with a gasp as his hand went lower. He caught her hand in his free one and hooked a leg over hers. Between his weight and the blankets, she could barely move.

“Not too much exertion this way,” he murmured as his hand worked between her legs. Shepard was too lost to answer. Her weariness combined with the feeling of being trapped in place made the touch of his fingers on her and in her almost too much to bear, each jolt of pleasure in sharp contrast with the pain in the rest of her body. He pressed his head to the side of hers, and whispered encouragements until she came around his fingers. She could feel his plates loosen against her thigh, but he kept her hand tight in his, and her eyelids weren't cooperating at all. Even pinned down, her orgasm had taken what little energy she had.

“Go to sleep, Shepard,” Garrus said. “Get better, and you can return the favor.”

She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, but she still managed to murmur, “Twice over.”

He chuckled, and right before she slipped under she heard, “I'll hold you to that.”


End file.
